Fluff 'n Stuff
by Some Scribbles
Summary: Snippet Two: Fair Play. Remy and Rogue make a bet. 'Remy should have known that all of his bragging would get him in trouble one day...He looked down at the tofu bucket with a sense of gathering doom.'
1. Sugar

**Disclaimer**: If the X-Men were mine... Sorry, I was off drooling in a fantasy world again... what was the question?

AN: In an attempt to get back into writing chapters and churning out the good stuff, I humbly submit to y'all the beginning of a collection of X-Men drabbles. Most of these will be written in response to challenges that I've received. My apologies if you've already read them on my livejournal. And I'm also sorry for getting your hopes up for more of "Letters" or "Dance," but I'm doing my best to get an update out to you this upcoming weekend!

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_Sugar_

Like all things fluffy and sparkly, Rogue had an inherent dislike for Valentine's Day. And like most things Rogue had an inherent dislike for, Remy LeBeau was doing his utmost to get her to change her mind. After countless arguments since Groundhog's Day, Rogue had finally conceded that there was--perhaps--one good thing about the blasted holiday, and that was the surplus of chocolate.

Therefore it was no great surprise when Rogue woke on February fourteenth to the sight of several red velvet heart-shaped boxes artistically placed on her bed, in her--now open--dresser drawer (thankfully not her underwear drawer or else she would have to face the tedious task of explaining the rather large dead swamp rat on mansion property to Xavier), on her nightstand, and she was fairly certain that those were individually wrapped bars strewn like flower petals on the path to the bathroom.

Rogue couldn't stop the flush of _something_ exciting her for a minute before she groaned, flopped back down in bed, and pulled the covers over her head. This caused the chocolate heart that had been on her bed stand to fall with a _plop_ and _splatter_ to the floor, informing her that it had come undone and some of the chocolates had come out.

Curious despite herself to see what the Cajun had gotten her, and knowing that the thief had rather extravagant tastes and the means to get them, Rogue flipped the covers off of her head and rolled over to the side of her bed, extending one arm down to the floor until her fingers brushed against the box. She managed to dig out a chocolate that had remained safe, tucked in its thin paper wrapping.

She held it up for her inspection; it was artfully formed in a seashell, its base was dark chocolate and it had some milk chocolate swirls decorating it up to the edges. She brought it up to her mouth slowly, anticipating the rich chocolately goodness that would soon be hers.

As soon as she bit down on it, Rogue's eyes widened and she spat it out into her hand. It was terrible. She looked at the crumpled up mess in her hand and then reached down and grabbed the box. Flipping the few chocolates remaining in the heart onto her bed, Rogue turned the box over and read the ingredients on the back.

_Sugarless._ He had given her sugarless chocolate.

She deposited the chewed up mess in her hand back into the box and reached for the one on the nightstand, this time making sure to check the back. It was also sugarless.

Eyes narrowing in growing suspicion, Rogue got out of bed and checked the box on her on her dresser. Sugarless. She threw it onto the floor.

_Looks like Ah'm gonna hafta tell the professor that Ah took care of that lil' infestation problem after all._ Teasing a girl with chocolate was just cruel.

Experience combined with force of habit made her want to face down the swamp rat fully locked and loaded, and that meant completely equipped with her gothic make-up. Rogue stormed into her bathroom only to walk into a sheer purple sheet of silk. Before she could do anything more than gasp in surprise, two strong arms had surrounded her, pinned her arms to her sides,and pulled her into a hard chest.

Looking up quickly, Rogue only got the impression of burning red eyes before Remy's lips were on hers through the silk. He kissed her long and slow and deep, and it set fireworks off in her gut and shudders of flame tingled upwards, through to her lungs and she found herself gasping against his mouth.

This provided him with the opportunity he needed to deepen the kiss briefly before pulling back and whispering in a voice that was warm and dark and deep, "Just wanted t' show ya, _cherie_, dat dere's more t' Valentine's Day than just chocolate."

_fin_

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Despite having promised myself to avoid 'silk scarf kisses' in any form, I don't think it counts in drabbles, do you? (grin) 


	2. Fair Play

**Disclaimer**: Silly fangirl, X-Men belong to Marvel!

AN: This drabble was written in response to a challenge from my writing group to incorporate one of three sentences. I chose: "He looked down at the tofu bucket with a sense of gathering doom."

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_Fair Play_

Remy should have known that all of his bragging would get him in trouble one day. But it never bothered him, after all, he was Remy LeBeau, Prince of Thieves, King of Hearts, _Le Diable Blanc_. He thrived on a challenge, on any new adventure--his _tante_ would say (usually accompanied with a glare and a firm _thwap_ with a wooden spoon) that if trouble didn't come looking for him, he would get tired of waiting go looking for trouble himself.

That was before he had met Rogue. The girl just plain _refused_ to be impressed with him, it didn't matter what he said, did, or didn't do to her, she would just look at him, make a smart comment and move on. That, of course, was unacceptable and he could not let it lie. Especially with her eyes sparkling like they did when she was irritated and the way she thrust her chest forward when she got aggressive and the wonderful things that her aggravated stomping away did to her hips...

No, Remy certainly wasn't lacking in the challenge department. Especially now. He looked down at the tofu bucket with a sense of gathering doom. Usually he wasn't one to complain about sneaky tricks--he always had his own ace up his sleeve--but he was sure that this wasn't playing fair.

_What did I do t' deserve dis_... he thought, before wincing as his brain not-so-helpfully supplied a list. _Well, yeah, but** dis**... _And then his brain cheerfully called up the memory of how this whole bet had gotten started in the first place.

It had been Rogue and Kitty's turn to clean up after dinner, and he had wandered into the kitchen to bother a certain Southern spitfire. One thing led to another and before he knew it he was bragging about his superior cooking skills. Kitty was giggling at the both of them, and Rogue had turned around from the dish washer and was assessing him with a calculating look that really should have made him run for cover. But his _tante_ had always said that he had more balls than sense...or maybe that was his brother Henri?

"So you're sayin' that ya could take _anything_ and turn it into a culinary masterpiece?"

Remy nodded confidently, "Anyt'ing."

She tilted her head and narrowed her eyes, "Would ya care ta place a small wager on that?"

Remy felt his heartbeat accelerate. "_Chere_, dis Cajun don't do not'ing _small_."

"An' here Ah thought nothin' was beneath ya. All right, Swamp Rat. Name your stakes."

"T'ink y' should tell me de terms of de bet first, ne?"

Rogue crossed her arms, "All right. Ah give ya the basic ingredients. Ya can add whatever spices ya like. Ya have one hour ta turn it into a 'culinary masterpiece.' It'll hafta pass a panel of three judges--Ah'll pick one, you'll pick one, and Kitty can pick one. They can't know the stakes. Is it a bet?"

"Stakes?"

The calculating gleam in her eye only sharpened. "Ya were the one who said ya never did anything '_small_--'"

Remy a little offended at the disbelief in her voice.

"--so Ah think Ah should hear yours first."

Remy smirked. "Fair enough. Hmm...if I could have de Rogue do anyt'ing, what would I do..."

Rogue snorted, "Don't act like ya ain't got a list."

He paused in sorting through his alphabetized and itemized mental list to leer, "Don' be gettin' me confused wit' your own self. Remy knows dat y've been y've been up late at nights dreamin' 'bout what dis Cajun could do t' y'."

He hoped that blush spreading across her face...her neck...downward... was an indicator of her embarrassment and not her rage. It was so rare that he got a blush out of Rogue that it made it hard to tell. _Den again, de consequences of eit'er are usually de same_...

But to his surprise, this comment was not followed up with immediate violence. "Ya gonna choose your stakes or not, Swamp Rat?"

_She must want t' win dis bet bad_. The thought only increased his eagerness, so he quickly picked one of his top five, "I win dis bet, den you've gotta call me by my name. Not 'Cajun,' not 'Swamp Rat,' 'Gambit' or 'Gumbo.' M' name. Remy."

He knew that he had surprised her when she dodged the question, "Don't think ya use your own name enough?"

He crossed his arms and leaned against the wall, "Dose are de terms. Take 'em or leave 'em."

"For how long?"

"For how long, what?"

"For how long would Ah hafta call ya by your name."

Remy grinned at her and shrugged. "Why, forever, _cherie_. I tol' y' I don't do small bets."

She blanched.

"Well, mebbe I let y' keep Swamp Rat occasionally. It's kinda like an endearment, _non_ River Rat?"

"Endearment mah ass," Rogue muttered.

"It certainly is," he agreed, tilting his head to the side to try and catch a better glimpse of that particular piece of her anatomy.

"Fine," she bit off the words. "Ah accept your bet. Ah'll get ya the ingredients tomorrow."

She turned to Kitty, who had been following their conversation like an audience at a tennis match, and said, "Now ya heard the terms. It's your responsibility ta make sure that we stick ta them."

Remy thought that Kitty looked far too enthusiastic about the prospect.

"Good." And with that Rogue left the kitchen.

She was out of the room before a thought occurred to Remy, "Wait a minute, _chere_! Y' forgot t' tell me what your terms were!"

"No Ah didn't! Ya forgot ta ask!" she yelled back.

That was when Remy first thought that he might have made a mistake. But confidence in his cooking skills quickly overcame his foreboding and he shook his head at Kitty, who was busy laughing at him. "So _petite_, who are y' t'inking of choosin' as a judge?"

Kitty only laughed harder.

Now he was standing in front of a bucket of tofu, some wild rice, and several green vegetables that he didn't even recognize. Rogue had plopped them in front of him with a smile and a "have fun."

It had already been fifteen minutes of him just trying to wrack his brains to figure out what he could do with tofu.

_I've worked wonders with crawfish; frog legs an' escargot cower at m' hands. But dis..._

No, this was definitely not playing fair. _It's not even meat!_

Remy began to realize that this was one bet he just was not going to win.

He really, really wished that he had asked her what her terms were.

_fin_

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AN: That's the last of my pre-prepared drabbles. I'll be working on "Letters" tonight and tomorrow, so until then just remember: dead authors write no tales! 

Drop me a line and let me know what you think!


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